


uuwi ako sayo

by lethargies



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Half-Filipino Iwaizumi Hajime, M/M, Pining Iwaizumi Hajime, Vacation, matsuhana if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 21:08:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15648972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lethargies/pseuds/lethargies
Summary: In which the third-years go on a trip together, Iwaizumi confronts his feelings, and is terribly, terribly in love with Oikawa Tooru.





	uuwi ako sayo

**Author's Note:**

> some translations at the end of the work!

 

 

> _"Kahit walang katapusan, hindi ka iiwan_  
>  _Basta't makasama ka ako'y nakauwi na."_
> 
> _—_ Nakauwi Na, Ang Bandang Shirley
> 
>  

* * *

 

Iwaizumi Hajime has always been good at swallowing hard pills, the truths that keep his throat stuffy for days on end. For example, getting eliminated at the Miyagi Prefectural games, leaving his kouhais, graduating Seijoh. These realities, well, they’re the tears Hajime likes to blink back at 3 am in the morning. They sting his eyes and hurt his heart, but that’s okay, because Iwaizumi Hajime is good at this.

 

As he sits idly on the grass, fog misting up vaguely in the chill of the afternoon, he figures it’s a good time as any to swallow another hard pill. They won’t always be together, him and Oikawa.

 

To be fair, Hajime knew this the moment Oikawa got scouted after their last match versus Karasuno, for a powerhouse school in Tokyo, while he was left with no scouts to his name. He, on the other hand, had settled on a university in Hokkaido, to pursue a degree in economics. It was a recently discovered passion, something Iwaizumi only fell in love with after accidentally joining an internship program in the middle of third year.

 

Oikawa nearly cried after finding out they weren’t going to be _together forever_ as they once promised during that summer of fifth grade.

 

From here on out, the paths he must take are ones he will walk on his own, without Tooru or Hanamaki or Mattsun by his side. They all had separate lives to live, separate dreams to reach, own goals to chase after. It’s both a curse and a blessing, he supposes, one that haunts every growing person.

 

It’s hard to let go, Hajime knows this, which is perhaps the reason why they were in the Philippines in the first place.

 

One last chance to bond, to keep the people that _matter_ close to you, within arms reach. A well-deserved trip between the four of them, both in celebration of their graduation and as a farewell. It was a unanimous decision to spend two weeks in the sweltering heat of the Philippines, mostly because it was something their young pockets could actually afford, and Hajime was pretty much a tour guide on his own.

 

Except Iwaizumi doesn’t know _batshit_ about tourist spots in the country save for that one food street in Quezon City called Maginhawa (which wasn’t even a _tourist spot_ , as his wonderful auntie explained). God bless his Filipino mother and his far-fetched relatives, his cousins from _Tito Arnie,_ his second-third cousins from _Tita Elaine_ , and their neighbors who oh _so_ kindly offered their guidance on touring different provinces in the Philippines.

 

(Not that he’s ungrateful, because he really needed their help, but did they really have to ask _“Kuya Haji, may shota ka na ba? Malaki ba joga?”_ every single time they met?)

 

Bottomline is: Hajime understands Filipino well, and blushes too easily at their vulgar questions and comments about his apparently _“non-existent”_ love life. He can’t bring himself to deny their taunts when they call him _Kuya Torpe_ because around Tooru, honestly, Hajime is a fucking mess, nevermind him actually confessing his feelings.

 

(But this time will be different. It has to be.)

 

It’s all about playing the _lowkey_ landi game, the _pasimple-pero-type-kita_ moves, the way all whipped Filipino boys danced around their own crushes. He’s an incoming freshman in one of the top universities of Japan and he is pathetic, double underline, with how whipped he was for Oikawa Tooru.

 

He is completely, utterly, deeply in love with his setter, his friend, his _best_ friend, _(his everything)_.

 

(It doesn’t erase the fact that Hajime’s traitorous heart stutters at a glimpse of Oikawa’s smile, bright and beautiful, so so, _so_ beautiful.)

 

Iwaizumi burrows deeper in his large hoodie when a breeze blows his way, the cold seeping in uncomfortably. In the distance, Hajime catches traces of Hanamaki screeching, and even more faintly, Mattsun screaming after him. He chuckles into the softness of his sleeves, uncurling to lie on the grass and stare at the early evening sky.

 

Hajime has been to Tagaytay twice in his life, once when he was far too young to remember anything about his trip, and now, his second time with his closest friends. He wonders if the sky back in Japan is anything like this one, muted orange hues and pink tones, spilling into each other like an artist’s palette. From the corner of his eye he spots a faint twinkling of a star, the first one of the night.

 

Hajime makes a wish. _(Sakin nalang siya.)_

 

When he opens his eyes, he finds Oikawa leaning over him, curly hair bouncing in his wake. Behind him, the tall Ferris wheel lights up, flashing colors of red and blue and yellow like broken strings of Christmas lights. They bend and melt on Oikawa’s skin, shadows delving under his cheekbones, striking the tip of his nose, the bow of his lip. His eyes are bright with mirth and unadulterated joy.

 

Oikawa is beautiful, like always.

 

 _“Ang ganda ng mata mo.”_ Iwaizumi says, softly. He reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair that falls in Oikawa’s eyes. He doesn’t notice his lips curving into a soft smile, the one completely reserved only for Oikawa Tooru.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“Your eyes are beautiful.” He doesn’t bother lying, not while staring right in Oikawa’s eyes. Hajime can’t find it in himself to say an off-handed insult, not when he gets to watch Oikawa’s cheeks flush red, not when he _truly_ means every word he said.

 

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa complains with a laugh, standing up to offer a hand to Hajime. Iwaizumi pushes himself off the ground with his help -- Oikawa’s hand is warm and soft and there is a rough patch of skin in the middle of his palm, testimony to his long fight with jump serves.

 

Hajime is used to swallowing the lump in his throat, the hard pills that refuse to go down no matter how many times he tries. Because Oikawa deserves to know about the skips his heart makes whenever he smiles that soft grin only for Hajime. He deserves to know about his two-am thoughts, his dreams of waking up to Oikawa’s face every single morning. _(This much, he deserves, at least.)_

 

A month from now he won’t have Oikawa this close, not anymore, not for a long time.

 

_Uuwi ako sayo, sinta, kahit gaano man katagal akong maghihintay. Hinding-hindi ako magsasawang mahalin ka._

 

Iwaizumi hugs himself tighter, wraps his own arms around his chest to keep warm. Oikawa steps right beside him, close enough to touch, _close enough_ for the warmth to radiate in between layers of clothing like a fucking furnace. He thinks about his mother, the way she flushes warm in his father’s embrace.

 

“Let’s go there, Tooru.” Iwaizumi gestures to the railing ahead vaguely, overlooking the Taal lake. The volcano is nowhere to be seen, sadly covered by low-lying fog and clouds. Oikawa is oddly silent, following Iwaizumi’s lead, but never behind him. Always, always beside him.

 

Oikawa faces the lake, and the bare hints of a sunset, palms pressed into the metal railing. Hajime, like Oikawa, watches the sunset, shoulders pressed together closely. He glances at his setter, at the smile on his face, the little dimple by his chin that only appears with his softest smiles. _Hajime wants to kiss him_.

 

“Are you going to say something?” Tooru asks, nonchalantly.

 

“Yeah.”

 

_(Mahal na mahal na mahal kita. Ang sarap, sarap sa damdaming makita kang nakangiti, alam mo yun? Pwede bang makasama kita? Palagi? Araw-araw, diyan sa tabi mo?)_

 

“I like you, you know that?” Hajime starts, barely a whisper. “Probably since third grade, but I only just realized it halfway our second year. That one time you snorted your strawberry yogurt up your nose, and I had to carry you to the clinic because you were bawling and crying too hard.”

 

“I spent the whole lunch period by your bed. And I was thinking, why the fuck am I still waiting here?” He laughs softly. “That’s when it hit me, at around twelve noon, that I was in love with the dorkiest, dumbest, biggest alien nerd of the country.”

 

Beside him, Oikawa breathes in sharply, body stiffening in surprise.

 

“Please let me finish, Tooru.” Hajime says, before Oikawa can get anything out. “Just let me say this to you. I’ve waited a really long time to find the guts I needed to say this out loud.”

 

Oikawa nods, surprisingly silent.

 

“I love you. When we’re playing together on court, I love you. When we marathon your stupid alien documentaries until dawn, I love you. And I don’t know how else to say this, but, I love you an--”

 

Hajime sighs, cutting himself off, frustrated. It’s not coming out right, the words and emotions that’s bubbling in his chest, and _it’s not enough_. He runs a hand through his hair, almost tiredly, and tries again.

 

“ _Mahal kita. Mahal na mahal kita, na para sayo susungkitin ko lahat ng bituin sa mundo. Sabi ni mama sakin na lahat ng tao nagiging tanga pag umiibig, pero iba sayo. Ibang-iba, na isang sulyap ko lang sayo parang tumigil ang pag-ikot ng mundo ko._ ”

 

Hajime laughs when Oikawa stares at him in confusion.

 

“ _Sigurado ako sayo, Tooru. Gusto kong makita lahat ng tagumpay mo, hanggang maabot mo lahat ng pinapangarap mo. Gusto kitang makitang masaya, at susundan ka ng puso ko kahit san ka man mapadpad. Buong buo ang puso ko sayo. Kasi ikaw ang tahanan ko, mahal, at basta’t kasama kita ako’y nakauwi na.”_

 

He glances at Oikawa’s hand, splayed on the cold railing. Hajime reaches out, places his own hand above Tooru’s smaller one, and when he doesn’t flinch away, Iwaizumi holds his hand. He doesn’t intertwine their fingers, palms pressed together -- he simply, and gently holds Oikawa’s hand, tenderly, and brings the hand to his lips, places a kiss on the back of his hand. _One._

 

He places a kiss on each of his fingers, gently, the same fingers that brought their team to victory countless, _countless_ times for Hajime to even remember. Iwaizumi holds Oikawa’s hand in his own, the same way he dreamed about for _years_ , and presses it to his lips, softly.

 

And keeps it there, _keeps it there_ as Hajime whispers his wishes, his _prayers_ into Oikawa’s hand.

 

_Sakin ka nalang. Gusto kitang makasama, gusto ko sa tabi mo. Lord, please, mahal na mahal ko siya. Mahal kita. Mahal kita mahal kita mahal--_

 

“I love you, Tooru, and I’m going to miss you so fucking much.” Hajime mumbles into the skin, ends it at that, blinking away the tears that pooled up in the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t look at Oikawa, just stares at the sunset, lips still pressed against his hand.

 

The pill goes down his throat uncomfortably, and he swallows the lump.

 

Fingers go under his chin, tilting his face up, and suddenly he’s facing Oikawa. God, he’s so _beautiful_. Even with the red-rimmed eyes, flushed cheeks from the cold, the unruly hair curling in front of his forehead.

 

“I love you.” Oikawa says simply, hand now placed tenderly on Hajime’s cheek.

 

“What?”

 

“I love you. The same way. Everything you said earlier, including the Filipino gibberish, which I hope isn’t you telling me I’m ugly -- because I’m beautiful, excuse you -- and I love you, Hajime.”

 

Oikawa wipes the tear that run down his cheek, the lone one, and all Iwaizumi can hear is the throbbing of his heart, thankfully not broken. When Oikawa smiles, brightly, widely, and his nose crunches just a little bit, Hajime’s world feels whole. He feels whole.

 

 _Ang ganda ng ngiti mo_.

 

“I love you.” Iwaizumi parrots back. He doesn’t have a moment to spare when Oikawa throws himself in his arms, sobbing and blubbering like a kid, _and_ Hajime laughs, throws his head back and laughs. He has his whole world in his embrace, warm and bright -- his chest feels too small for his heart now.

 

“Iwa-chan, oh my god, I love you so _much_ ,” Oikawa cries into his neck, sniffing, “You’re my favorite person ever, _Iwa-chan_ , I love you, I love you a lot an--”

 

“I love you too.” Hajime repeats, burying his face in the curls at the nape of Oikawa’s neck. This is home, he thinks, holding his entire world as snot drips on the collar of his favorite hoodie.

 

Home is where Tooru is, where Oikawa smiles like fireworks and puts the _goddamn_ sun to shame. Home is his bubbly laughter and ugly cries -- and Hajime has found his home.

 

 _Oikawa Tooru, mahal kita_.

 

“Oi, lovebirds, they’re closing! We should really go back.” Mattsun shouts at them, near the large _SKYRANCH_ letters.

 

Reluctantly, Hajime lets Oikawa go, but he tangles their fingers together before Oikawa can run over to them. He glances at the man beside him, and he can’t help the satisfied grin on his face as Oikawa blushes, the tips of his ears red.

 

“ _Amputa, ang landi mo rin pala, Haji._ ” His cousin, Bertie, mutters from behind them, and Iwaizumi flips him off with a shit-eating smile.

 

 _Non-existent_ love life? Not anymore, _gago._

 

When they all meet-up near the entrance, they all thank Iwaizumi’s cousins for kindly touring them around Tagaytay. His cousins, Bertie and Raymond, were generous enough to give them a few rides around the area.

 

“ _Salamat, Berts, Ray.”_ Iwaizumi thanks them with a good hug, thumping their backs goodnaturedly.

 

 _“Kaya niyo na ba bumalik? Hatid namin kayo._ ” Raymond offers, twirling his keys.

 

Iwaizumi shakes his head, “We can take a tricycle back, it’s okay. Thank you for offering. _Ingat po kayo_.”

 

They wave them goodbye, and no one bats an eyelash at Oikawa and Hajime’s intertwined fingers.

 

* * *

 

 

 

When they reach their rented rest house, Hanamaki and Mattsun hides away in their own room, but not before Oikawa throws them packets of condoms and lube.

 

“Be safe and prep well!” Oikawa hollers at them, and laughs when Makki curses him from inside their room.

 

Iwaizumi settles in the common area, lighting up the fireplace. Apparently, the house was a family property on his mother’s side, one that his cousins and other relatives frequently used for outings in Tagaytay. It was immediately offered to him the second he mentioned something about _“visiting the Philippines”_ and he’s never been one to look at a gift horse in the mouth.

 

In any case, it’s a really good place -- cheaper than booking two rooms in the high-rise condominium, and it definitely had more space. The living room is reeks of _home_ , with the family pictures all put up around the place. Iwaizumi recognizes his mom in a lot of them.

 

As he looks around the area, Iwaizumi notices an old guitar placed by the corner of the room. It’s old and well-loved, by the looks of the strings and fading color, and surprisingly well-tuned when he strums it lazily. It’s almost muscle memory, the way his fingers take the shape of different chords, sliding up and down the fretboard.

 

His cousins taught him how to play a few songs, when he visited the country several summers back. It’s tradition, they told him, that everyone in the family (distant or not) should know how to play at least the _Filipino classics_ , Japanese background be damned.

 

They weren’t bad teachers, Hajime realizes now, as he sits down and vaguely remembers the first song he ever learned.

 

A finger on the top-most string, third fret. Another finger on the string below it, second fret. Pinky on the last string, third fret. Ring finger on the string above the last, third fret.

 

 _G chord_.

 

Hajime plays, the familiar strumming pattern coming back to him as easily as spiking. He knows this song by heart, of summers spent under the shade of the mango tree, singing along.

 

_“Kamukha mo si Paraluman…”_

 

He’s carried away by the melody of the song, in the moment of it, and doesn’t even notice Oikawa sit by the stairs, hair dripping wet from the shower.

 

 _“Magkahawak ang ating kamay, at walang kamalay-malay,”_ He sings easily, the words slipping off his tongue as smoothly as a well-loved nursery rhyme.

 

 _“Na tinuruan mo ang puso ko,”_ Hajime opens his eyes, surprised to see Oikawa watching him, but doesn’t falter to sing the next lyric. _“Na umibig nang tunay.”_

 

He ends the chorus with a last strum, softly, and the note still lingers in the air even after he stopped singing.

 

“I didn’t know you could play, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa says, walking over to the sofa nearest the fireplace, directly across Iwaizumi. He says this with a smile, the one that shows up with the tiniest dimples and leaves Hajime’s heart stuttering.

 

“Just a few songs.” Iwaizumi shrugs, a small blush on his cheeks. “Mostly Filipino ones, because that’s the only thing my cousins ever bothered to teach me.”

 

“You sing really well, Hajime.”

 

There’s no hint of teasing or sarcasm in Oikawa’s statement, just pure admiration, similar to the compliments Oikawa showered him when he powered through a three-person block in official matches.

 

 _Mahal ko siya_.

 

Iwaizumi hums a soft thank you, picking idly at the strings of the guitar. They share the silence, and it’s comforting-- most things are comforting with Tooru around, anyway. Hajime stares at him as he plays through songs at random, mellow notes, and his breath catches in his throat when Oikawa meets his gaze.

 

His eyes are soft, warm in the light of the fireplace. He’s glowing, Hajime thinks, his hair curling naturally like a halo. _I’m in love with an angel, pare._

 

“Play something for me.” Oikawa says softly. A request. Iwaizumi has always found it hard to say no to anything Oikawa asks of him.

 

“Anything?” He asks.

 

“Yeah. I just want to hear you sing.”

 

At that, he smiles. Hajime wraps his fingers around the fretboard, flitting from chord to chord, trying to remember the _perfect_ song to play for Oikawa. Eerily, he almost hears his cousins yelling in his head, _“Haranahin mo nalang siya!”_

 

He strums, this song just as familiar as the first one. Hajime knows this one by heart, by simple muscle memory. He’s heard his own cousins practice this over and _over_ again back when he was younger, to woo their own crushes in the summer evenings.

 

It’s an easy song, easy lyrics, easy pattern.

 

 _“Uso pa ba ang harana, marahil ikaw ay nagtataka?”_ Iwaizumi starts, watching Oikawa. _“Sino ba tong mukhang gago, nagkandarapa sa pagkanta, at nasisintunado sa kaba.”_

 

Fuck, he’s so in love with Oikawa it doesn’t seem real. He’s been by his side from the very beginning, and he _should_ be used seeing his face every single day, but Iwaizumi’s heart still skips a beat every time Oikawa smiles.

 

(I love you, with everything in my heart, I love you, Tooru.)

 

 _“Mayron pang dalang mga rosas,”_ He continues, careful of the chords. _“Suot nama’y maong na kupas.”_

 

_“At nariyan pa ang barkada, naka-porma’t naka-barong.”_

 

Hajime thinks of his team, Seijoh, Makki and Mattsun -- and the number of times they confronted and told off his pining ass to just confess to Oikawa.

 

 _“Sa awiting daig pang, minus one at sing-along_.”

 

Was Tooru about to cry? His eyes are glassy, from where Iwaizumi can see, and all he wants to do is hold him close. Hold him close and never let go, because that’s exactly what Oikawa deserves.

 

 _“Puno ang langit ng bituin, at kay lamig pa ng hangin.”_ He sings lowly, staring at Oikawa straight in the eye. Iwaizumi loves him, loves _every single_ thing about him.

 

_“Sa iyong tingin ako’y nababaliw.”_

 

Oikawa stares back at him, unwavering, powerful, like all of the adjectives Iwaizumi had come to associate with him. Beautiful, steady, founded, gorgeous, warm. Tooru looks at him with so much _emotion_ Iwaizumi feels the tears prick his eyes -- it’s overwhelming to have Oikawa’s entire attention focused on him. It’s the best thing he ever feels.

 

 _“Giliw, at sa awitin kong ito’y, sana’y maibigan mo_.”

 

This song is for him. Hajime hopes Oikawa understands, _hears the love_ , behind every foreign word he sings. Because he loves him, so much, beyond any spoken language there is.

 

_“Ibubuhos ko ang buong puso ko, sa isang munting harana.”_

 

Iwaizumi knows his parents’ love story well. He remembers falling asleep to his mother telling him about warm, summer evenings. Listening from the balcony as his father woos her with a terrible rendition of her favorite _OPM_ song. She could barely understand the lyrics, slurred and heavy with his Japanese accent.

 

Hajime knows the brightness in his mom’s face as she ends the story, _“I fell in love with him, anyway. Even when he butchered my favorite song.”_

 

Who would’ve thought he’d be singing his mother’s favorite song to the one person he loved the most?

 

_“Para sayo.”_

 

Hajime ends the song softly, strumming the last chord with only the lightest fingers. He places the guitar back in its case, setting it down carefully on the floor. Waits for a reaction from Tooru.

 

“I love you.”

 

Iwaizumi looks up, surprised at Oikawa’s face. Unguarded, raw, loving. The same way his father looked at his mother. It’s not a thank you, not written plainly, but it’s the best thank you he has ever received in his entire life.

 

“Me too.” Iwaizumi says, scooting over to leave a space for Oikawa on the sofa he’s sitting on. A clear invitation.

 

Oikawa rises from his own seat, crossing the table in between them. Squeezes himself in the small loveseat, almost sitting on Hajime’s lap entirely. Iwaizumi easily wraps an arm around his shoulder, keeping him close. It surprises him how smoothly they fit with each other. (Like a puzzle piece, they fit.)

 

“I love you so much, Hajime.” He whispers, curling into Iwaizumi. “For a long time now. I was scared you didn’t love me the same way. But I’m thankful I get to have you. I love you.”

 

Iwaizumi hums, pressing a kiss against Oikawa’s temple. Noses at the small locks of hair curling there. Another way to say _I love you too._

 

_Masaya ako sayo._

 

This is home, he thinks, the best home he could ever ask for. Oikawa is home.

 

Tooru places a hand on his cheek, tilting his head, and meets his lips halfway. A soft kiss, if anything, and Hajime thinks the warmth in his chest feels a lot like winning the nationals. Oikawa tastes like cheap, mint toothpaste. He smells like witch hazel toner.

 

When he pulls away, he thanks God for giving him Oikawa to hold, to love, to cherish. Tooru’s eyes are glinting in the red-orange light of the fire, and he has never felt so loved.

 

 _“Mahal kita.”_ He whispers, soft enough for Tooru to hear.

 

“Is that I love you?” Oikawa asks, bumping his nose against Iwaizumi’s. He’s happy.

 

Hajime nods.

 

“I could read it from your eyes, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa places a kiss on the tip of Iwaizumi’s nose. He is so in love, so, so, _so_ , in love with the man in his arms.

 

 _“Nakauwi na ko, Tooru.”_ Hajime says instead. Presses a kiss on Oikawa’s eyelids in return.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“I’m home now.”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This fic is incredibly self-indulgent. I just love half-filo Iwaizumi so much.... I'm so happy I got to write this, so I hope you enjoyed it as well! Find me on twitter @kenmaclub <3
> 
>  _Uuwi ako sayo, sinta, kahit gaano man katagal akong maghihintay. Hinding-hindi ako magsasawang mahalin ka._  
>  \-- I'll come home to you, dear, no matter how long I have to wait. I'll never get tired of loving you.
> 
>  _(Mahal na mahal na mahal kita. Ang sarap, sarap sa damdaming makita kang nakangiti, alam mo yun? Pwede bang makasama kita? Palagi? Araw-araw, diyan sa tabi mo?)_  
>  \-- I love you so, so much. It feels great to see you smile, you know? Can I stay with you? Always? Everyday, by your side?
> 
>  _“Mahal kita. Mahal na mahal kita, na para sayo susungkitin ko lahat ng bituin sa mundo. Sabi ni mama sakin na lahat ng tao nagiging tanga pag umiibig, pero iba sayo. Ibang-iba, na isang sulyap ko lang sayo parang tumigil ang pag-ikot ng mundo ko.”_  
>  \-- I love you, I love you so much. I'd get all the stars in the world for you. My mom once told me that everyone becomes stupid when it comes to love, but it's different with you. It's so different, that with a single glimpse of you it's like my entire world stops spinning. 
> 
> _“Sigurado ako sayo, Tooru. Gusto kong makita lahat ng tagumpay mo, hanggang maabot mo lahat ng pinapangarap mo. Gusto kitang makitang masaya, at susundan ka ng puso ko kahit san ka man mapadpad. Buong buo ang puso ko sayo. Kasi ikaw ang tahanan ko, mahal, at basta’t kasama kita ako’y nakauwi na.”_  
>  \--I'm sure with you, Tooru. I want to see your success, until you reach all your dreams. I want to see you happy, and my heart will follow you wherever you go. My heart is full with you, because you are my home, love, and as long as I'm with you I am home. 
> 
> _Sakin ka nalang. Gusto kitang makasama, gusto ko sa tabi mo. Lord, please, mahal na mahal ko siya. Mahal kita. Mahal kita mahal kita mahal--_  
>  \-- Please be mine. I want to be with you, I want to stay by your side. Lord, please, I love him so much. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love
> 
>  _Ang ganda ng ngiti mo._  
>  \-- Your smile is beautiful.
> 
>  _Oikawa Tooru, mahal kita._  
>  \-- Oikawa Tooru, I love you.
> 
>  _“Amputa, ang landi mo rin pala, Haji.”_  
>  \-- Damn, aren't you one sly fucker, Haji.
> 
>  _“Kaya niyo na ba bumalik? Hatid namin kayo.”_  
>  \-- Can you guys get back? You can ride with us back.
> 
>  _Masaya ako sayo._  
>  \-- I'm happy with you.
> 
> The first song Iwa plays is ["Ang Huling El Bimbo"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lajnSJZpI34) by Eraserheads, and the other one is ["Harana"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vf4WpFE47fs) by Parokya ni Edgar.  
> Translations for the songs below!  
> [Ang Huling El Bimbo](http://fallen-aster.blogspot.com/2013/08/ang-huling-el-bimbo-last-el-bimbo.html)  
> [ Harana ](https://lyricstranslate.com/en/harna-serenade.html)


End file.
